Devil's Frost, Spellspinners Series #3 (The Spellspinners of Melas County) (11 page)

“Logan?” Griffin, a newer member of the brotherhood, a half-Japanese, half-Hawaiian warlock, one of the last to pay his respects, rested a warm hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay, brother?”

“No.” I was a mess. “I can’t…believe this.”

“I know. It sucks so bad.”

“I can’t remember anything after I was knocked out.”

“I heard the head witch, the blonde? I heard she did this to Chance.”

I nodded. “Do you know how, or why?”

“It was after they dragged off the witch that hurt you to be questioned by Congression, I guess. I wasn’t there. I helped Jacob and the other guys bring you to the infirmary. Chance was acting weird during your fight, though. I do remember that. His eyes were kind of glazed over, and he wasn’t talking or being funny like usual.”

Jacob’s red poison had that effect on those he chose to use it on.

Griffin continued. “The whole Gleaning was effed up today in a big way. Total chaos. The witch Lily…” He glanced at me sideways, and I met his gaze. “She seemed to know you. She revived you, you know?”

A flash of her face bending over me, a swath of her hair grazing my cheek as she chanted.

She saved me.

“It’s a long story,” I said, not sure how much I should admit to. I scanned the crowd and realized that Jacob wasn’t there anymore. Where was he? Was he going after Lily and her amulet? I had to get to her. I tried to stand up, but felt faint. Spinning. Griffin helped me onto a wooden bench. He had an easy, relaxed way about him—must be from growing up on the islands.

“Give yourself a minute, dude,” he said reassuringly. “You lost a lot of energy back there.”

I nodded.

Griffin sat down next to me. “A lot of shit went down that I don’t understand, man,” Griffin said. “And now this.” He gestured sadly toward the slab, and we were quiet for a moment. Then, after glancing around the clearing, he leaned toward me and said softly, “But, Logan, dude, maybe Chance will be the one.”

My eyes stayed on Chance. “The one?”

“To revive. I heard he was killed by a dagger. But it didn’t pierce him through the heart. It shot him with a bolt of magic.”

I recoiled. “I…Really? Who told you that?”

“It’s going around. What, Jacob didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“Not that it matters much.” He shrugged. “No one has ever been able to locate the cure, or the
Cintamana
—our version of the much-touted Philosopher’s Stone. It’s managed to evade us for the ages
,
but they keep on looking. It’s big in my community back home. Since I was a kid, the elders told tales of its unique healing properties, turning any stone to gold and even reviving the dead.
If you ask me, that’s all it is—a kiddie story made up to entertain around the campfire. Evidence of its existence, along with its ability to reanimate dead Spellspinner flesh, is yet another myth derived by Congression to give us hope after jacking us up in the Stones.” His articulate speech left me disappointed yet eminently curious about this
Cintamana
, but it looked like Griffin was done.

“Classic Frankenstein’s monster,” he mumbled as he stood. “Do you want to come with me back to the house, or do you need another minute?”

“I’d better stay on here. I need to pay my respects.”

“Hang in there, bro.” Griffin’s hand gently squeezed my shoulder.

“Thanks, Griffin.”

“You bet.” He squeezed my shoulder again. When he paid his respects to Chance, kneeling on one knee and kissing his limp, large hand, I bit back tears. All I could manage was a nod in his direction as he looked at me one more time before walking into the forest to mourn with the others and to begin the customary day of silence, during which we ate only broth and bread for dinner and spent our time reflecting in private. But now I was finally alone with Chance.

I had heard rumors of this “cure,” but no one really knew what it was—or how to locate it. I hadn’t heard of it the way Griffin described.
Cintamana
. What I heard was it originated somewhere in Europe, where the Ancients used to live. A few years ago, an elder warlock died during a magical battle in the forest. A search party had gone looking for the means to revive him, but returned empty-handed. After seven long days, the allotted time between death and the possible administering of the cure, the warlock was buried.

If there was even the slightest hope Chance could be revived, I wouldn’t give up until he did. But I needed something more to go on. I lacked both the strength and the intel to begin a search. I needed help.

I sat there for who knows how long before sunset streaked through the canopy of trees and onto Chance’s body. Beams of golden light sparkled across his dark skin, looking like pale-colored veins on the underbelly of a leaf. Blinking, I felt a tingle of magic cascade over the dreary space. Pine needles crackled under my bare feet as I moved in for a closer look. What in the world?

Chance’s eyes were closed. His face was quiet and peaceful even though broad lines began to appear, one by one, forming a spiderweb of ink across his chest. Like inkblots, some spots were darker than others. Shapes burst where nothing had been before; shadows formed one after the other after the other. A chain of something…

But what?

Hesitantly, I reached out, gently tracing the dots, startled by how his usually hot skin had cooled in death. Even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good, I wanted to warm him with my hands. When I did, the strange shapes brightened. Glowed like stars, spastically scattering across his chest and then stopping. They looked almost like…islands. I blinked, checking over my shoulder, assuring I was alone. Spreading my legs a bit, in case someone was looking, I hovered over his body, concealing my discovery.

Inhaling deeply, I went inward, searching for what this could mean.

More light shone down from the trees and, again, with it, there was a tingling sensation of my magic being rejuvenated. I stood up, staring, my muscles tensing with newfound strength and revitalization. Also with the light came clarity and energy and magic from the universe.

This is a map to the cure.

Someone was sending me a message. But who? Who would want me to find the cure and save my best friend? I stared at Chance’s chest until I had every detail memorized. Ribbons, curls, circles. Oblong shapes and, finally, most important, a crescent moon inserted into a circle, which marked a destination. The place someone was willing me to go.

Kneeling on one leg, I closed my eyes and squeezed his hand. I kissed his hand goodbye, whispered apologies and promises into his ink. Swallowing away a mix of pain and regret, I sprinted into the forest, focused on this glimpse of hope. I had a sign. I had to take action. Now. And taking action meant finding that island so I could rescue my best friend from death.

But first I had to find Lily.

I ran deep into the coastal forest, and literally ran into Jude, who, leaning against a white oak tree with a smug smile on his face, took a bite of a bright red apple. Chewed, swallowed, and then said:

“My,
my,
Logan—you’ve made a speedy recovery.”

I wiped sweat off my forehead. This was all I needed. “What do you want, Jude?”

“Don’t be too hard on Lily—what happened with Chance wasn’t her fault.”

“Yeah, I assume you had something to do with it, like I assume you had something to do with Orchid shifting.”

He looked surprised and then quickly covered it up. “Now, why would you think that?”

“Never mind how. I don’t have time to deal with you, but believe me, I will soon. How do you know what happened between Lily and Chance, anyway?”

Taking another annoyingly crunchy bite of his apple, he shrugged.

“What are you doing lurking around? Shouldn’t you be mourning Chance with everyone else?”

“I was”—he glanced into the forest with a knowing, almost guilty expression, which faded quickly into his usual cocky smile—“otherwise occupied. I’m on my way now.”

I glanced past him into the forest. I didn’t have time for Jude and his antics.

“Do you know where Lily is?” I demanded.

“She went that way.” He pointed into the forest, in the direction that led to the cliffs. “Before you go—”

I grumbled past him. I had things to do. Lily to find. A cure to get to after that.

He placed a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “You look like you’re on your way someplace. Let me guess. You’re going after the cure to save Chance? Logan, it’s hopeless. No one that’s ventured has ever come back. The brother ends up dying, and the quest was for naught. If you insist upon going, tell me you at least have an idea of what you’re looking for.”

I knew
where
because of the map. But Jude was right; I had no idea
what
the cure looked like.

“I’m listening.”

“It’s a vial of red liquid you must bring to the dead’s lips before the seventh hour on the seventh day of magical death. Apparently, you’ll know it when you see it. Rumor has it only the
truly
worthy will receive the antidote in time to save their bodily flesh from demise.”

My eyebrows pinched when I thought of my friend. “Chance is worthy. If anyone is worthy, it’s him.”

Jude shrugged, indifferent. “If you’re able to find the vial—which is highly unlikely, given no one has a clue where it is on the Ancients’ land—I do agree with your fine assessment of our fallen brother.”

Ancients’ land.

The islands. The Isle of the Seven Sisters! The Sisters were responsible for the curse.
And breaking the curse.
And likely for painting the inked map on Chance’s body. Could Chance’s cure and the key to breaking the curse that denies witches and warlocks our full magic be in one and the same place?

“Ah, you know all about the Seven Sisters, of course. I forget how tight you’ve become with our female counterparts recently.”

“Careful, Jude. You’re letting your jealous flag fly.”

He touched his chest, taking playful offense, but his blue-green eyes narrowed. I’d struck a chord. Jude had a soft spot, and that soft spot was Lily. It made me sick that he had feelings for her, but I could also use them to my advantage. “Ah, Logan. What you don’t know about me is a lot. Perhaps it’s time to push your feelings for that lithe little blonde aside and focus on saving your best friend, eh?”

Ignoring his razzing, I said, “Where is she? Where’s Lily?”

Looking up, he placed his finger on his cheekbone as if struggling to remember her whereabouts. Then, in a dramatic move more appropriate for the Elizabethan-era stage than the Melas County forest, Jude swept his arm in a grand gesture, allowing me to pass. “Last I saw her, she was heading toward the cliffs.”

I nodded. “And, Jude?”

“Yes?”

“Stay the hell away from her.”

“Or?” His finger twisted around a leaf, which he set in his palm, making it float up and down playfully, or in an attempt to look indifferent.

I grabbed a handful of his T-shirt and glared into his eyes hard, catching him by surprise. “Or what happened to Chance back there will look like nothing compared to what you’ll look like when I’m done with you. And I won’t use magic, so there’ll be no possibility for a cure.”

“Ah,” he said, visually flustered. “Double threat received.”

I shoved him, and he smacked back into a tree. He made a point to carefully pluck leaves off his crisp white T-shirt. Shaking my head, I exited the thicket.

“Oh, and, Logan?” he said, mimicking me.

“What?” I spun around with a growl. This guy was such a pain in the ass.

“Give Lily my very best. And tell her what I said earlier, I meant.”

He was gone before I had a chance to ask him what the hell he was talking about.

When I found Lily, I planned to rush up and find out what had happened in the Gleaning after I was knocked out. What she knew about Orchid. How in the world whatever went down with Chance went down, but when I finally saw her, alive, beautiful as ever, speaking animatedly with her mother—obviously about something important—I couldn’t just barge in. So instead of interrupting, I waited, watching.

She was so beautiful, standing there on the cliffs dressed in something more like a slip than a dress, like the one she was wearing that night in the clearing. I wanted to feel her body pressed against mine, to see that look in her eyes of wanting me, needing me. It was a drug, that look. I needed it like I needed air.

When I finally stepped into the clearing and opened my mouth, what came out was her name.

Lily looked up, lips parted in surprise. Her once-pale face looked brighter, her new eyes smoked with emotion. So stormy-ocean blue before, now they flickered orange and red. Fire. She didn’t say anything. She just stared at me, her head tipped forward, blond hair parted down the middle, flowing over her smooth, glowing shoulders. She looked stronger. Her body pulsed with magnetic energy. I was almost afraid to approach her, like she was a new wet-winged dragon who didn’t yet understand how to control her flame.

She took a step forward, toward me, her face awash with guilt.

“Logan! Are you okay? I’m so sorry I let Jacob drag you off…and I’m so sorry. Everything was so crazy. Orchid was the doppelganger, and they hauled her off after I saved you and then”—she looked down, her face flushed with guilt—“something happened to Chance, and I did it. Something terrible.” Her voice shrank so small, I could barely make it out on the gentle breeze blowing off the sea. All I wanted to do was to press her face into my chest, rewind time, and make all this pain go away, but there was something about her energy and the fact that her mother was standing right there that held me back. “What can I do to make it better? I’ll do anything, Logan.”

“I know.” I reached out, stroking her cheek with my thumb. She nuzzled into my hand. “I overheard Jacob talking after they took me from the Stones.”

“It’s just such a mess,” she said softly, her shoulders slumped. She filled me in on exactly what happened. Chance was drugged with the red poison and coming at her. Like I figured, she had no choice but to lay him flat. Goddamn Jacob. Fury raged in my bones, but I could at least ease Lily’s guilt. Without delay, I filled her in about Chance and the map on his body and the possibility of a cure. Like me, she was hopeful—and, naturally, a little relieved.